


friends can hold hands, can't they?

by orphan_account



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, im a sad gay theatre kid so like, its gonna be sad for sure, moritz realizes his feelings for melchior, sorry kids, this is gonna be exactly the kinda thing a sad gay theatre kid would write, this takes place before the musical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Moritz has been getting a weird feeling in his stomach whenever he's around his best friend, Melchior, for months. He doesn't understand exactly what it is he's feeling until the two boys have a conversation about Melchior's latest crush.





	friends can hold hands, can't they?

**Author's Note:**

> sorry the first chapter is p short, but the rest is gonna be longer lol

Moritz was an anxious person, it was just his nature, but his constant insomnia proved to be making it worse. Every moment he was awake, Moritz felt like he was on the verge of tears. Almost anything could trigger his anxiety, but for some reason one of the biggest triggers was his best friend Melchior.

Melchior was smart, interesting, handsome; all things Moritz was not. Well, according to himself at least. Moritz couldn’t help but notice how most of the girls his age pined after Melchior. There was one girl, Martha Bessel, who fancied Moritz, but he hardly noticed her. Every so often she would attempt to flirt with him, but he always misinterpreted it as friendliness. Moritz preferred to spend his time talking with Melchior.

This was starting to become difficult though. He couldn’t decide if it was due to his insomnia or his growing awareness that something was  _ different  _ inside him. When he listened to his classmates talking about the girls they liked, and the way they liked them, a pit formed in his stomach. He didn’t have the words he needed for what he felt, but even if he did have them Moritz figured he’d be too scared to say it. He once tried to explain how he felt to his friend, describing his feelings as a taste stuck in the back of his mouth. It was like he almost understood what the other boys described, but in a different, vague way. Especially when it came to their more physical urges, Moritz found it extremely hard to relate. Melchior had been understanding and deemed Moritz a “late bloomer”. Moritz knew his friend meant well, but still felt almost sick hearing those words.

He was a complete mess inside, even without regards to his situation at home. For the longest time, Melchior had been his safe space, someone he could tell anything to, but recently it was the complete opposite. He hoped for the longest time he was just uncomfortable with Melchior’s hyper awareness of the relations between men and women. He hoped it was just him clinging to the sliver of innocence left in him, but deeper down he knew what he was feeling. 

Now, as he sat at his desk with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, he struggled to find the words he felt he needed. He was going to see Melchior later that day and he was determined to dispel the anxiety and awkwardness he felt between them. The first letter he drafted was full of flowery language and big words often used incorrectly. Almost immediately, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into his bin. The next letter was too brief and felt too cold, so that one went into the bin as well. Now, as Moritz stared down at what was meant to be his third attempt, he was starting to think a letter was a dumb idea. He let his head fall onto the desk and gave a sigh. 

His eyes slid shut and he slowed his breathing, a wave of exhaustion and nausea overcoming him. His thoughts stayed on Melchior as he tried to let sleep come to him. After a few frustrating minutes, he lifted his head back up. He pushed himself out of the chair in defeat and began to pace his room. He was nervous to meet with Melchior and had no idea what to say to him. The letter was supposed to help, but now Moritz felt more lost than ever.

Melchior was his friend. He was supposed to be there for him no matter what, and Moritz felt guilty for doubting that he would be. He stopped his mindless pacing and swore under his breath. He wasn’t even sure what he was even trying to tell Melchior in his letters. Regardless, he knew the general feeling that filled him whenever he thought about the other boy and he knew he needed to try to express it to Melchior. At the very least, Melchior would be able to help Moritz understand what was going on inside him. Moritz was always amazed by how much Melchior knew, and he had to know something about what he was feeling. His mind was in such a fog over it and he was desperate for any kind of clarity. 

He made his way back over to his desk and sat down once again. He wasn’t going to attempt another letter and sat quietly in thought, his eyes focused on the paper. Just then, he was startled by his bedroom door swinging open. He watched as his father walked in, his usual stern look fixed to his face.

“Your mother has told me you plan on seeing Melchior today.” His voice lacked emotion.

“I do, sir.” Moritz scrambled to get out of his desk chair and stand up.

“I know you have a paper due soon. Have you even started it?” He gave Moritz a pointed look.

“Yes, I have.” He lied through his teeth.

“You may not go out until you finish it.”

“Yes, sir.” Moritz let his shoulders droop slightly.

“You will show it to me when you’re done.” His father turned to leave. “Then, you may go see Melchior.”

“Thank you.” 

Moritz watched as walked out of his room and shut the door behind him. He let out a breath once his father was gone. Then, turning back to his desk, he groaned. He had forgotten about his assignment and had absolutely no desire to do it. Still, he knew he had to write something, or else he wouldn’t be able to see Melchior. He forced himself to sit back down and pick up his pencil. He spent the next few hours bullshitting his essay, filling it with unnecessary words purely to make it longer. Melchior was the one who taught him how to essentially fake an essay. He showed Moritz how to regurgitate words and phrases to make it sound like he was saying something new when he really wasn't.

When Moritz was finally satisfied with his essay, he shuffled the papers into a neat pile and stood from his desk. He hoped it would be sufficient enough for his father. He was worried to present his work to him, but had to deal with it if he wanted to see Melchior and avoid punishment. God, did he want to see Melchior. Moritz stood dumbly in his room, holding the papers to his chest, as his thoughts wandered to Melchior yet again. There was something about his friend that made it impossible to get him off his mind, and part of him understood why the girls were so in love with him. He sighed before straightening out his posture and leaving his room to find his father. 

He could only hope for the best.  How his father responded to his work would depend on what kind of mood he was in. If he was feeling even slightly annoyed or upset, he'd make Moritz rewrite it up to three times before deeming it passable. On his kindest days, he would let him go out if he promised to edit it when he came home. As he walked towards his father's study, he hoped for the latter.

**Author's Note:**

> hey lads hope you liked this!! feel free to let me know of any spelling/grammar errors! don't expect speedy updates lol bc i'm lazy and i have a job


End file.
